


Hulk Squared

by intangible_girl



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hulk!Feels, interdimensional space wedgie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intangible_girl/pseuds/intangible_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/12672.html?thread=29598080#t29598080">Due an interdimensional space wedgie of SOME sort, the Avengers of the Marvel Cinematic Universe meet with the Avengers of Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes. The Avengers Squared start swapping notes. It's going swimmingly... until the Bruces meet.</a>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inspired by a prompt at AvengerKink exploring the relationships between the disparate Bruces and their Hulks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hulk Squared

The thing is, he really doesn’t look very much like his counterpart. The Tonys are nearly identical except for their haircuts, and everyone else bears far more than a passing resemblance to their counterparts, but where their Bruce is of a fairly normal build and has curly hair and sad eyes, the other Bruce looks like he’s just a few months out of a concentration camp, with only a little bit of meat covering his ribs, which are bared now after coming down from the least destructive Hulk-out they’ve ever seen. He’s _skinny_ , and scruffy-faced and has deep smudges under his eyes, and at the moment he is _livid._

“You don’t even _talk_ to him?” he demands of their Bruce, who has the strange expression on his face that they all have, that is-this-really-happening-to-me consternation of talking to an alternate version of yourself, laced in his case with pain and some other things they can’t begin to guess at. Mostly he looks like he’s trying very hard not to be pissed. The other Bruce gapes at him when he doesn’t answer, his silence eloquent enough, trying for words and making small, cut off sounds instead. Eventually he just clenches his jaw and turns and punches a nearby tree hard enough to break off a shower of bark. Their Bruce recoils, but the other Clint (whose face looks a lot like his counterpart’s, but whose costumes is… very different) just chuckles and puts a hand on the other Bruce’s shoulder.

“Don’t wanna break your hand there, Small-Fry,” he says. The other Bruce snarls, swiping at his Clint, who dodges neatly, hiding a grin, and turns back to their Bruce, brandishing his finger at him.

“Bring him out,” he demands, and finally their Bruce gets angry too, though much less spectacularly.

“You’re insane,” he says flatly. “I don’t know how you got yours under control, but my alter ego is just a mass of barely controlled rage, nothing more. He’s not a _person_ , he’s a monster.”

The other Bruce narrows his eyes dangerously, and when his Clint sees his expression he slowly backs away.

“I wonder,” other Bruce says, deceptively calm. “Did _your_ dad call you that too?”

Their Bruce clenches his fists so hard he breaks the skin. Blood drips from his balled hands, and he does not notice.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he grits out between his teeth.

“Oh, he did?” other Bruce says, as though he’s just observed something interesting under a microscope. “I wonder what else we have in common. Is mom still alive?”

Their Bruce is breathing so hard he sounds like a mad bull, sucking breath through his clenched teeth and snorting it out through his nose. All of them (both groups) are rooted to the spot, but the other Captain steps forward, hand raised slightly.

“Bruce,” he says, in his calming, fatherly tone, and while they’re pretty sure he’s talking to his Bruce, it’s hard to tell. Both of them ignore him.

“I guess not,” other Bruce says, sounding coldly pleased as his counterpart whines deep in his throat, like an animal in pain. “That’s too bad. Tell me… was it him?”

Their Bruce roars, and shoots upward, skin bleeding green, and in the lee of time before the Hulk gets his bearings and starts smashing, the other Bruce smiles a thin smile and steps back slightly.

“That’s more like it,” he says, before shooting up himself.

Their Hulk finishes his roar and brings his head down to glare at the large green face in front of him. The other Hulk is a brighter green, and actually a little smaller, though not by much. Oddly, his hair is black, and he bears no trace of the seemingly-permanent stubble that had been on the other Bruce’s face. He looks like a completely different person, green skin notwithstanding. But there is a light in his eyes that is just as intelligent as Bruce’s, and just as belligerent. He brings his hands up to catch the other Hulk’s fists as he swings them forward, and his heels dig into the ground.

“Calm down, stupid!” he says, as the rest of them scatter. The other Captain beckons the newcomers to a nearby ridge where there is some cover, and they hunker down and watch. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

The darker Hulk roars again and whips his counterpart up and then slams him down into the ground, or at least that seems to have been his plan, though the lighter Hulk wrenches his own arms enough that the force is nearly cancelled out and all that happens is a slight thud as he is lifted up a few inches and then dropped. Their Hulk stops at that, looking confused, and his counterpart takes the opportunity to drop his hands and speak.

“Look, dummy, I’m a friend. Okay? _Friend_. You know what that means? Comprende?”

Their Hulk just glares at him, snorting through his nose. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, and for a moment it looks like he might be about to settle. The company holds its breath. But Hulk just roars again and takes another swing at his lighter counterpart, who sighs deeply and grabs the incoming arm, using it to throw his opponent to the ground, where he leans over him and roars back, even louder. They spend nearly a minute just roaring back and forth, louder each time, until the lighter Hulk gives one last mighty roar and slams his counterpart down in a vicious headbutt, which stops all noise very abruptly. There is a tense moment where the gathered heroes aren’t sure what is going to happen, and then both Hulks relax and the lighter one steps back to allow his counterpart to stand, looking oddly subdued next to the smaller Hulk.

“That’s better,” he says, patting the larger one on the shoulder. “Let’s go get a bite to eat, guy.”

“Eat?” their Hulk queries, and next to the other Hulk, so articulate and intelligent, he really does sound embarrassingly stunted.

“Yeah, eat. Like food? You know food?”

“No food,” the taller Hulk says, shaking his head. His tone is mournful, and the lighter Hulk spins to look at them.

“What?” he demands. Tony shrugs.

“He’s not usually out that long.”

“Bullshit,” Hulk calls, “I eat almost a ton of food every day. No way he’s never eaten.”

“Bruce does tend to go through the entire takeout menu whenever he transforms,” Steve offers. The other Hulk keeps staring at them incredulously, but then snorts and turns back to his new friend.

“Come on, butthead, I smell some deer down this way.”

He points, and the other Hulk sniffs.

“Deer?” he repeats.

“Deer. Maybe we’ll even bring these losers back some.”

“Shotgun!” the other Clint calls, scrambling up his Hulk’s arm to perch on his shoulder.

“If he squishes you, I’m just gonna laugh,” his Hulk warns. Clint rolls his eyes.

“He’s not gonna squish me,” he scoffs, waving his hand dismissively at the other Hulk, who is chewing on a pine tree branch. He spits it out, a comically disgusted expression on his face. The Hulk with a Hawkeye on his shoulder laughs.

“Come on, stupid, that’s not good for eating. Deer’s this way.”

They’re out of sight in a matter of seconds, Clint’s banter echoing back through the trees for a lot longer than that. Tony looks at his counterpart with his silly bangs (seriously, he’s had his hair long before, but that just looks stupid) and raises an eyebrow.

“We gonna just… let them go?”

The other Tony shrugs.

“Hulk does what he wants,” he says dismissively, digging in his pocket, their Tony already forgotten. He stares at him for a moment before turning back to the trees and giving a shrug of his own.

“Okay,” he says. “Sure, why not.”


End file.
